Everything Changes
by Lapis Love
Summary: The final installment in the Cat & Mouse/Mine Again series. The hunt continues but the prey has changed. Did he truly have what he always wanted, or was he exposed to the truth that he didn't have a clue about what he needed until she sank her fangs into him. All Damon knew was, New York wasn't ready for them.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: When you write so much everything you put out starts to feel the same; that's the dilemma. Here is Part I of the final segment of the Cat & Mouse/Mine Again series. Yea! I had to break it up in two parts because there was too much that needed to happen that I couldn't squeeze into 20 pages. Hopefully Part II will be up later this week, Thursday by the latest. For those who are new to this series, you might want to read the aforementioned stories to get the gist of what's going on. If you're not new and you want to read them again I won't stop you *wink-wink*. Thank you guys so much for waiting for this to finally come out! Enjoy. **

Disclaimer: These characters are the creative property of the LJ Smith and The CW. No copyright infringement is intended.

* * *

"_**Sometimes it's an indignant murmur, sometimes it's an angry tirade, but lately you hear it louder and louder…" -Celeste Perrino-Walker**_

Like screams that begin as a whimper that turn into a sob before erupting into wailing cries that frighten the soul and shatter one's sense of normalcy. Having a normal life was forfeited the minute Bonnie uttered the words of a spell, the second she felt heat tingle in the palms of her hands before fanning out to her fingertips and she made feathers float and proclaimed…

"I'm a witch."

Back then she said it with pride, with wonder, with reverence though it had taken a while for her to adjust to the blatant truth that there was more to her than mere skin, bones, blood, pretty eyes, and an amazing smile. But being a witch eclipsed everything else. From having a life that was truly her own, right down to the fact she stopped loving herself along the way. Magic became her security blanket, her parent, her lover, her best friend. It was her identity; the reason she climbed out of bed in the morning, and the reason she lost track of time at night. It monopolized her thoughts, synchronized her actions to the point of obsession. If she could protect her friends no matter what, stayed one step ahead of her enemies then it meant she was important on the scale of things, right? It meant there was a divine purpose to why she had been called to do this.

Bonnie became so good at what she did that's all everyone demanded of her. That's all they saw her as. She wasn't a person capable of embodying emotions and exhibiting feelings. She was simply…

A witch.

_The_ witch.

Their thirst, their craving, their hungering for her to swoop in and make all their follies into steaming piles of gold marked the catalyst for Bonnie seeking out ways to obtain more power. Regardless if it came from the earth, the spirits, stars or the moon, she was open to it and couldn't stop once she tapped into raw power without limitations.

No limits. It was different, this kind of magic, because the kind she had inherited from the right set of genes had limits and consequences, more so than carrying a loaded weapon. And that's what her friends and enemies had turned her into, what she allowed to take place because she had been too weak to say no; she couldn't let people down.

Her spirit had been weakened because of crushing loss and constant disappointments and setbacks, but her magic itself had thrived, changed shaped, altered to whatever ritual needed to take place in order to save lives. Her life force had nearly been depleted but the magic inside of her needed a source of its own to tap into. It was drying up, becoming extinct and with it her voice grew smaller and smaller, until finally she was screaming but the sound was on mute.

Abandoned and shunned by her ancestors, Bonnie had nowhere to turn for answers, for help. And if she couldn't help then she had very little value to those around her. It was never explicitly said but instinctively felt. She couldn't lose her place, her spot; she couldn't be benched simply because she had nothing left to give.

Help arrived yet came with ulterior motives, backdoor deals, and conversations she was excluded from. They played her and she allowed herself to be played. She helped, was kicked around like a soccer ball, and no matter how many times she awed them Bonnie could never escape feeling as if her best still wasn't good enough.

They wanted her to do everything. They wanted her to be God. Sick thing was…she wanted to be their god.

So she branched off when no one was looking, when the least bit of attention was paid her way. It was easy to fall between the cracks, slip off the radar, and naturally no one took notice until she stood aside, arms folded over her chest as her 'friends' were seconds away from being ripped to shreds by friends of those who lost their lives the second they entered Mystic Falls city limits.

"Bonnie! Do something!"

"Help!"

"We can't fight them all on our own!"

"Bonnie!"

"Bonnie!"

"_BONNIE!"_

She had stood there, back against the wall of the nearest building, studying her nails for a second before flicking her reptilian green eyes in their direction. The sorry asses, the poor lot who couldn't do anything without the aid of a witch. Bonnie had given up hope they would be able to see her as more. There was no redemption to be found among those people who only sought her out when they needed saving and disregarded her like trash the second they didn't.

"Sorry," Bonnie muttered softly, gently as if she were singing a lullaby to a sleeping baby, "I see no problem from where I'm standing."

She walked off down the sidewalk listening to their screams as they grew louder and louder, cried their tears of indignation she would abandon them at such a critical time. A few promised to get her back for this, but she only smiled. Ghosts, dead men, and all other shades of beings who had no foothold on this side of things simply put, couldn't do shit to her.

As fate would have it, they all survived and thought giving her the silent treatment, the evil eye, the long suffering irritated sighs at the mere sighting of her presence, and turned backs as she walked down the sparsely populated halls of Mystic Falls High would be a sufficient punishment. As if their cold shoulders would make her cave, save face, and return to them to be taken for granted yet again.

She was done.

Living in denial kept Bonnie blind to the truth. That word friendship lost its meaning at some point. It used to carry weight; it used to be sacred, but when friends started stabbing friends in the back in order to keep their paramour alive, and friends lied to one another under the presumption of keeping friends safe, and friends started making deals with the devil in order to save a known betrayer, friendship meant absolutely nothing if a person couldn't live up to their words or keep their promises.

Yes, Expression came into her life at the right time, at the pinnacle moment where Bonnie would have done whatever it took to get her normal life back.

It backfired. Severely.

The high, the freedom, the exclusion of pain and suffering, the novelty, the fact trees and blades of grass, even the birds and insects trembled as she walked by gave her what Bonnie thought she lacked all this time. Control. She had it. She could wield and dispense it at _her _will, doing what _she _wanted because there were no checks and balances. There was no one to tell her no and everything to tell her yes. She was the head and not the tail. She was above and not beneath. They had to come to her and they had better grovel when they did.

Bonnie was not dumb. She knew her friends were petrified of her. No, they weren't afraid _for _her in that Expression had twisted her mind to where she couldn't differentiate right from wrong. Absolutely not. They were afraid _of _her because of what she could do now that she no longer did things according to her strict moral code.

She had unparalleled power. She could do whatever the hell she wanted and there was little clout or ground for any of them to stand on to tell her otherwise, and trust Bonnie had given them plenty examples of what she'd do if they ever so much as raise their voice at her.

Okay, so peeling the skin off that police officer might have been a bit extreme. She didn't kill him. The heart attack he suffered was what did him in. Nevertheless, Bonnie didn't like to think of the fact that her peeling his flesh off might have precipitated his heart attack. No, it was much better for her conscience to go with the story that his heart weakened by stress and poor diet was the reason he died.

Supposedly, that had been strike three with her friends who tried to stage an intervention with the help of some witches from some gutter town in Mississippi. Friends of her mother or former friends since Abigail Bennett-Wilson had been excommunicated the second she became a fanger.

This scene had been filmed a thousand times in movies. The last stand. The final showdown of good versus evil where the audience knew that good would prevail because everyone was a sucker for a happy ending. Bonnie didn't see herself as evil just fed up.

There she stood in the middle of the street, maniacal and wild with fury as the coven of witches surrounded her chanting in Gaelic Scottish trying to bind her powers so they could get close enough to cleanse her. It would take more than Arm & Hammer baking soda to get rid of the tough stains left behind by years of neglect and ill-treatment from her friends and family who all thought they were doing her a favor in freeing her mind.

"It won't work," Bonnie taunted. "I'm too strong for that because I'm not bound by _any _kind of ritualistic magic."

Bonnie watched as twelve noses began to bleed yet the determined witches didn't give up and forfeit what they knew was a lost battle way before they even entered into the arena.

"Bonnie…_please_…" Elena cried her vampire tears. "We just want to help you. We all want things to go back to the way they were before, and we know that they can't, but it doesn't have to be like this. Please, just let them help you. We still love you."

"Love?" Bonnie queried and because she felt like it, broke the leg of one of the witch's severing the link, weakening the others. "You all think you're doing this because you love me?"

"Bonnie," Stefan stepped forward next. "This isn't you. We understand. We weren't there for you like we should have been, and we're all deeply sorry about that. We just want to be here for you now."

"Just like you were there for me in the past?" she ridiculed. "Don't lecture me about love and wanting to be there for me. I haven't forgotten that this," Bonnie waved her finger around to include the area, "is your idea. I told you all to leave me alone but you refused to listen. So what happens to these witches will be on your head, Stefan."

"Bonnie don't…"

"Abby…_now_!" Stefan shouted.

And just as Bonnie opened her mouth to do a counter spell, a cold, undead wrist was lodged in her mouth and blood began to ooze down her throat. Bonnie's eyes widened as realization hit her just seconds after the feeding began and she glowered accusingly at those who stood and watched.

"I'm sorry, Bonnie but there's no other way to stop you, and you need to be stopped. Forgive them and forgive me for this."

The sound of a neck being snapped stopped all activity on the street. No one breathed, blinked, moved a muscle, or thought too loudly afraid that any noise or sudden movement would disrupt what was about to happen.

What day was it? What was the hour? Where was she? Bonnie had no answers to her questions as sound returned to her ears along with feeling in her body, but things felt off. _Way _off and she heard two people arguing.

"Why would you do that?!"

The stress of the voice, the disbelief that a cardinal rule had been broken confused Bonnie until events of tonight came spiraling back, jostling for position.

"Everything changes."

Her moans stopped the commotion in the room and Bonnie sensed everything even with her eyes closed. There were six people in the room with her. Two were standing in front of the fireplace, one stood on the opposite side of the couch, one hovered by the entrance which led into the room, one person had been pacing back and forth insistently, and the last person was seated on the end table beside her head.

"…what…did…you...do…?" Bonnie's voice was practically inaudible.

A warm, large hand engulfed her much smaller one and Bonnie felt blood flowing through the veins and filling up capillaries. She was suddenly ravenously hungry and couldn't understand why she wasn't thinking about sinking her teeth into a juicy cheddar burger from the Grille but more so wanting to sink her teeth into salty, human flesh.

She sprang off the couch startling everyone who stood still and on the defensive.

Though the only source of light in the room came from the fire in the hearth, it still stabbed her eyeballs like needles forcing Bonnie to shield them with her arm, and distance herself from the flames. When she focused on the fibers in the carpet she could see each hand woven strand—how was that even possible? When she took a cursory sniff of the air she smelled everything from different brands of perfume and cologne she could almost identify by name and brand, to the Pine Sol cleanser that had been used to polish the floor and furniture.

Her jaw was on fire, there was a maddening beat pounding in her head, and as she stared at Jeremy all she really saw were the network of veins and arteries hiding under his skin. She licked her bottom lip, heard her stomach growl, and knew she was exactly two seconds away from pouncing on him.

But someone stepped in front of him forcing Bonnie to jerk backwards though she stood nowhere near Jeremy at the moment. That wall of chest morphed into a full picture and she was looking Damon Salvatore in the eye.

"I wouldn't mind if you ripped his head off, but I'm sure others in this room might have a problem with that. Bonnie, I need you to listen to me because what I'm about to say…"

"Changes everything," she supplied quietly and then whirled around to face the person who had been as quiet as a church mouse and looked as guilty as a busted politician. "You _dirty_ bitch," she seethed at her birth mother. Abby had never been a real mom to Bonnie and whatever could have been between them relationship-wise was irrevocably over now.

"You did this to me," Bonnie placed a hand over her heart as her chin quivered.

The woman in question stiffened, "There were only two options left, Bonnie," Abby got the words out though they were difficult to speak. "Either the witches tried to cleanse you and it was looking kind of impossible at the moment or…you were turned. I'm sorry, I'm so sorry but there was no other way. Expression had too much control over you!"

"I don't want to hear it!" Bonnie yelled and felt rage boil and she had a good feeling her eyes were changing color. If she looked in a mirror she wouldn't like what would be reflected back at her. She jammed the heels of her hands into her eyes. "I can't believe you would do this to me."

Caroline attempted to move next to her friend and stopped dead in her tracks at the cold, steel look in Bonnie's eyes and the sneer on her face. Even at her most pissed off, Bonnie _never _looked at her like she wanted to peel her like a grape.

With her partially distracted, Stefan touched her shoulder but then found his throat being crushed in her tiny hand, knees on the floor, vein bulging from the center of his forehead.

What was it Stefan said? Oh, right. _Abby…now. _Had turning her been his ingenious idea?

Bonnie opened her mouth and two sharp little points were poking from her gums. Her transition was happening much faster than it would in an ordinary human, but Bonnie hadn't simply been human.

"Bonnie, you need to feed," Damon told her as gently as possible, eyes shifting between her and his brother.

Her eyes on the other hand were lifeless, her tone subdued. "You're right. I do."

And before he could stop her she clamped down on the side of Stefan's neck, not to feed but to turn his throat into ribbons.

Gasps, screams, and curses filled the air as Bonnie yanked back in a nanosecond and spat out a mixture of skin, muscle, fat, and blood. She wiped her chin and lips with the back of her hand and zoomed out of the house.

Matt had been the one to find her just an hour before sunset. She sat huddled on top of the clock tower in downtown Mystic Falls, knees drawn up to her chest waiting for death to finally come and take her out. There was no way she could transition to be a vampire because that meant she'd stop being a witch, and being a witch…that's all Bonnie had left after too much had been taken from her.

Who would she be if she couldn't be a witch?

She wiped her tears with her hands and shirt, cursed the planet and every, living breathing thing on it.

Matt sat with her and the two of them talked. Talked the way they used to when boredom struck and there was nothing else to do. And it felt good to just be able to say whatever was on her mind, not having to choose her words carefully so that she could be taken seriously. It felt good to have a simple human conversation that had nothing to do with magic, spells, or putting her life on the line in order to spare another.

She had missed it tremendously. Being treated like a human.

"If you want to complete the transition that's your decision alone to make, Bonnie," Matt rubbed her shoulder affectionately. "Whatever you decide to do, I'll be here to support you."

Bonnie cried some more still feeling deeply indecisive. "I've hurt so many people and I don't want to live like this. I don't want to be this _thing," _she said contemptuously.

"Then don't be. What did you used to tell me whenever something bad would happen? Like if my mom forgot to pay the light bill, you'd say pretend it was the Shakespearean era where everyone lived by candlesticks. Or I bombed a test, you'd say there were more tests for me to take and shine. Always look for the silver lining, that's what you used to tell me. What's happening to you doesn't have to be looked at like a death sentence, Bon. Think of it as an extension."

"An extension?" Bonnie intoned and thought. An extension meant more allotment of time. And what did every good plan for revenge need? Time.

"Everything happens for a reason, Bon. Find the reason for this."

"What if there is no reason? What if I'm just doomed?"

"I think everyone's doomed in some form or fashion. Doomed to live alone. Doomed to live in debt. Doomed to fall in love with the wrong person. Doomed to find everlasting happiness."

"Doomed to drink human blood in order to live. I can't do it, Matty," tears slipped down Bonnie's enflamed cheeks.

"Then that'll make me doomed to watch another friend die."

Bonnie cried even harder.

While she had been distracted with her thoughts, Matt had taken out a pocket knife and sliced into his wrist.

The scent of his blood caught her immediate attention and Bonnie had to dig her nails into the rooftop in order not to jump on Matt and suck him dry.

"What are you doing?" she shrieked.

"Being there for my friend. My _best_ friend."

Bonnie was flooded in a sea of earnest blue before redirecting her gaze to the sea of crimson that flowed and was being wasted.

"Your decision, Bonnie."

"My decision."

"Life or death. What do you choose?"

Her chest rose and fell deeply and heavily and gently she cupped Matt's wrist and lifted it up to her lips. She paused and simply inhaled the decadent smell. This, blood, was all that would matter to her from here on out. Did she want to do this? Was she ready to accept this massive detour of her life? Would she be strong enough to handle being a vampire, no longer a witch? She'd be something of a nomad fitting in with neither world. Could she handle that?

Bonnie supposed with time she'd find out.

"Neither," she ruled.

Leaving no more room for second guessing, Bonnie lapped at the blood before enclosing her lips over the wound where she began to suck.

Her pupils shrank in size, there was a tingling sensation happening under her eyes. The world enlarged and was magnified by frightening proportions that made Bonnie feel microscopically small to Herculean big. The pounding in her head and gums instantly ceased and there was nothing in the world more loving to Bonnie than the substance that flowed down her throat and filled her belly.

"Bonnie…?"

Why had she deprived herself of this for over twelve hours? Bonnie wanted to make up for lost time by going on a binge. Would other people taste different? Would she want to drink from anyone besides Matt who was turning out to be fucking damn delicious? What if someone out there tasted better than him?

It was that final thought which made her stop. She'd always been curious and now her curiosity had been piqued like a bloodhound that just came across a distinctive scent and she honed all of her senses on tracking it down.

Yet before she went off on a hunt, Bonnie faced Matt who wobbled a bit and appeared as if he were under the influence of a really good drug.

"Ohmygod, Matt! I'm so sorry."

"S'okay," his words slurred a bit and Matt nearly wobbled himself right off the roof.

Bonnie got him to safety and fed him juice and cookies at his house before promptly tucking him into bed so he could recover. As she stared at his ashen face and the dark circles that formed under his eyes, regret and shame prickled her. She had done that to her friend, and she realized she could have done much worse to Matt. She could have killed him! Hell, he looked as if he were ready for his funeral as he slept.

"_You're stronger than this…I'm so proud of you…"_

Bonnie heard her grandmother loud and clear in her ear. She hadn't felt strong then, or proud. She did want few others could do and that was it. Would Grams be able to look at her today and say she was proud of who she was now?

She highly doubted it.

Reinvention was a part of life. Bonnie supposed it was time to make herself over. Give herself a new identity because Bonnie Bennett the witch was dead. And in her place…was something else.

* * *

**The city that never sleeps…**

You want what you can't have. It's a behavior that's self-taught and developed in childhood and with some the mentality remained way into adulthood. You saw someone playing with something and it instantly made one curious to find out what tricks it could do and why it's suddenly important. Covetousness was one of many sins. Lying, cheating, stealing where habits developed to either avoid getting into trouble or used to get out of trouble. Damon Salvatore was no different from the masses but he had a special built-in trigger wired into his prime directive of being a vampire, a professional bloodsucker in which his actions were always straight and right on the money. In his eyes the only wrongs he committed was not always listening to his gut.

New York City was a five boroughs deep hunting ground to sate or exploit one's appetite. Gluttony was revered whereas waste was abhorred. Blood was blood, life was life and for the right price you could get your hands on both without staining your clothes in the process.

Whores sold themselves on the streets while bankers and stockbrokers sold their souls to the financial gods and everyone in between did what they had to, to live in their shoebox apartments; yes New York was his kind of place.

Women gawked at him. Men eyed him for his leather jacket probably to place the designer. Fashion was just one of many languages spoken in this cosmopolitan melting pot. Blending in was for cowards with no ambition, and it had been too long since he stood out to play.

Mystic Falls kept him in a bottle, like a neatly wrapped bomb that sometimes exploded and other times popped out a flag that said "Bang!" He could only be himself in small dosages because no one could handle him at full throttle. His towering inferno became a flare and then a spark, and now it was nothing but a flick of light ready to be put down, euthanized, and entombed.

When did he become so lame?

Drinking from blood bags and economizing on killing was probably the start of his downfall from grace.

He had fangs gotdamit. They weren't there for decoration but to be used to tear through simple, human flesh. He had speed, not to break world records in the Olympics, but to escape before being caught or to cut off his running prey. He had strength—not to change a flat tie, but to be able to defend himself against bigger, tougher, deadlier things than him. He had compulsion that was supposed to be used to make his victims do whatever he needed them to do so he could eat in peace and so they wouldn't remember his face.

Damon used those gifts but applied them the wrong way as of late. He stopped being himself the second he was dumb enough to fall in love.

How does one even fall in the first place?

Falling implied you stepped into something you couldn't see and lost your balance. Did anyone go to sleep one night wake up the next day and say "Hey, I think I love such and such? Gee, must have fallen in love."

In Damon's eyes, loving someone was a choice. A choice a person made whether it was implicit or explicit. Whether it was right or wrong. Sometimes it didn't feel like a choice because loving someone could hurt very, very much. Falling had very little to do with it other than falling all over yourself to prove you were worth something. Or making a mockery of yourself just to have your face cracked, hopes and dreams obliterated because the person you loved, loved someone else.

_Why the hell am I thinking about this_, Damon wondered and shoved the keys to his car deep in his back pocket as he slipped through the atrium of the hotel.

Bonnie had hopped out the second he killed the engine after parking in the insanely expensive underground parking garage of where they would be rooming for the next three or more days, saying she wanted to explore on her own. Damon had argued that her going off without his guidance defeated the purpose of their trip. A trip they had yet to tell anyone back home they had taken.

Bonnie stopped her sprint-like walking to spare him a glance. "You know how babies learn how to swim? By throwing them in the water."

That was euphemism talk for she didn't want his ass following her around being weird and creepy while pointing out important and historical landmarks like a wide-eyed tourist from the south.

Bonnie was grown, an adult. She could look after herself and deal with whatever issues or adversity she might face being such a small, tiny, microscopic being who inconsequentially had a thirst for blood—human and immortal alike. He wasn't going to rain on her parade and there were plenty of devices and distractions he could get into without having to double check to make sure she hadn't been abducted by human traffickers.

He hadn't packed a single thing, not even a sock when he checked in. Bonnie had since the decision was made at her abode and she hurriedly threw items in a pink rolling suitcase she forced him to take up to their room once he got everything settled.

Damon tossed her shit on the bed before throwing himself across it. The room was more of a suite, a split level suite. Downstairs was the living room and a miniature kitchen. Upstairs was the single bedroom. He could have settled with something a little more plain and efficient that offered two beds, but there was no need for he and Bonnie to be shy. They've done more things to each other in such a short span of time than married couples who had been sentenced together for years.

He wasn't ashamed of anything. Damon had spectacular hygiene habits and Bonnie wouldn't have to worry about him leaving the toilet seat up. Besides he didn't think either of them would be getting much sleep and that was the plan.

New York was perfect for an insomniac.

After ordering a steak—extra rare, two bottles of champagne while debating if he should pamper himself to a spa treatment, his cell buzzed. It was Bonnie calling some four hours later wanting to know the room number.

Damon sat on the edge of the king sized bed, swinging his crossed ankles back and forth, "Think I'm going to dispense that information without payment, vitch?"

"I was hoping you'd show me mercy," her words dripped with playful promise.

Damon moaned a bit into the phone prior to wedging it between his shoulder and cheek. He reached for the hem of his shirt lifting it up until his belly was exposed. He scratched his stomach.

"I'm known for granting many things, _vitch_ but mercy isn't one of them."

"Come on, Damon. My arms are about to fall off. I did some shopping."

He yawned, stood up to undo his pants and realized the wad of cash he kept strapped on him was missing. One plus one equaled…

"You thieving…"

"I promise to pay you back. One day," Bonnie cut him off. "The room number?"

"Twelve twenty."

Silence filtered through the static. Bonnie must have stepped on the elevator however that didn't make the irony lost on either of them. Twelve-twenty had been the number of the storage unit where he hid Klaus' desiccated body for all of an hour before Dark Alaric came marching into town.

Moments later something banged against the door and Damon was there to open it. He stepped aside after taking one look at an irritated Bonnie and her cargo. A legion of packages fell from her tiny little arms and she blew a wispy strand of hair out of her eyes just for it to fall right back into place. Without even thinking of the message his actions might convey, Damon tucked the strand behind her pierced ear.

For the first time since she turned Bonnie appeared bashful and she took a cautionary step away from him.

Damon had to remember he couldn't do sweet and lovey-dovey things with her because it wasn't like that between them. She jumped him, pilfered his blood, snapped his neck, and disappeared like mist. That was the established routine and doing anything to disrupt it would set off a chain of events neither one of them was emotionally ready to handle.

"So," Damon canceled the awkward moment by asking a question. "What's in all these bags?"

"You're not mad that I stole your money?"

"You steal my blood. Why should I care that you take my money? There's always more where they both come from," he ended his spiel with a wink.

Bonnie arched a brow and reached into one of the bags marked Louis Vitton. She pulled out a scrap of fabric that was intended to be a dress, and held it up under her chin. "How do you think I'd look in this?"

Damon prided himself on his overactive imagination. "I'm sure you'd look like a hot tamale in it, but I'm sure you'd look a thousand times hotter with nothing on."

In a classic Bonnie move she rolled her eyes, "I'm sure your pig-headedness might appeal to some but it doesn't do a thing for me."

"You asked a question and I merely supplied you with an answer. Why is it so hard for you to lighten the hell up? Hell won't freeze over if you laugh at one of my jokes."

"When you actually tell a joke then I'll laugh. Where's my room?"

What a demanding diva, Damon pouted and then pointed toward the staircase. "It's at the end of the hall."

Of course he was going to let Bonnie discover that there was only one bedroom and they were sharing.

Damon busied himself for about fifteen minutes and couldn't fight his curiosity any longer. He had expected Bonnie to storm down the spiraling staircase demanding to know just where the hell he expected to sleep, and once he calmly told her they would be sharing a bed he naturally assumed Bonnie would shriek he find them another room that offered two beds, or pay for her to have her own room. When none of the above happened he traipsed upstairs to find Bonnie zipping up a pair of metallic snakeskin boots…in her underwear. A peach set with flowers sewn into the cups of the bra and her lacy boy shorts.

She caught his reflection in the mirror but didn't spin around waving at him wildly to get lost.

Maybe vampirism knocked down all her barriers and reservations where he was concerned. In any case, he wasn't going to squander the opportunity to ogle her lasciviously but then he remembered something in particular, _someone _in particular, and averted his eyes.

But it was too late. The damage had been done. In just that glimpse he had painstakingly memorized all of her dips, hollows, curves, defined muscles, and the texture of her supple skin. The back of Damon's neck was hot and he felt dehydrated.

He cleared his throat before speaking. "How do you like the room?"

"It's nice. I've never been to a place so nice before."

"You haven't traveled much outside of Mystic Falls have you?"

"Why won't you look at me?"

The gentleman in Damon evacuated and in its place was the ribald playboy who loved pussy. He didn't just look. He stared, gazed, gawked. He ate her up visually and reflected back to Bonnie just what standing across from her dressed in panties and a bra was doing to him.

Bonnie sauntered over to him. Swinging her arms, swaying her hips, deliberately placing one boot in front of the other. When she stood barely a foot away, Bonnie pulled down the scoop collar of his shirt and brushed her fingers over his clavicle before heading north to travel along his thumping carotid artery.

Damon swallowed and forced himself not to move or have any kind of reaction.

"What are we doing tonight?"

_Each other_, Damon was so close to saying but snapped his jaws shut and muttered through clenched teeth. "Whatever you want to do," he walked around Bonnie because he needed room to breathe and think. "I've been to this city over a dozen times. I lived here back in the seventies but most of the places I used to frequent have been turned into banks, shopping centers, and high-rise condos."

He sat down in the Queen Anne chair that sat caddy corner across from the imposing bed. Maybe getting a room with one bed was not such a good idea.

What was he doing? Damon had no clue.

"From the looks of things I'd say you've done enough exploring for one night," he pointedly stared at her collection of bags.

"All my clothes scream Mystic Falls," Bonnie perched herself on the edge of the bed. "And we're definitely not in Kansas anymore. I want to do things I never get to do. I want to see things I've only seen on TV and in the movies. And..." she let her thought trailed off allowing him to fill in the blank.

Both of Damon's eyebrows lifted clean off his forehead. If she kept implying shit like that and looking at him like she literally wanted to eat him…

She was off the bed, out of the boots, and headed towards the bathroom. Bonnie stopped under the threshold and crooked a finger in his direction.

Without complaint he followed.

* * *

Warm water and foam bubbles lapped around his naked body. Something heavy bore down on his legs while tiny, inquisitive fingers slid up his torso. A tongue licked along the vein that protruded from his bicep and Damon held his breath wondering when she would strike.

That naughty little tongue made its way to the base of his jaw before heading back south to lap at the beads of water that collected on his chest. Now _this _was definitely his idea of a tongue bath. Momentarily he allowed himself to be distracted by the waves of smoke that rose from the burning tip of the candles. Fog covered all the mirrors in the bathroom and he was deliciously warm and more than convicted he had made the right decision.

"Fuck," inadvertently slipped through his parted lips when that tongue danced around his nipple making it pebble and harden until she was able to flick it back and forth, around and around.

There was no containing the python between his legs that was practically weeping for the same kind of attention, but Damon knew better to even bring that up, or whisper it as a suggestion.

Being who they were it was never going to happen.

"Bonnie," he groaned her name like he was in pain and in a way he was. Heightened arousal hadn't been known to kill any vampire but Damon thought under the right conditions it was possible. She had switched over to his other nipple not wanting to neglect it. He couldn't touch her which was maddening on its own, but it only added to the anticipation of things to come and experience yet amplified his frustration.

Deceitfully innocent celadon orbs peered up at him at the same time a corner of her lips formed into a naughty smirk. Bonnie couldn't play the naive card and debate she had no idea what her oral ministrations were doing to him. He had known all along that under the blouses that never fit her quite right, the tight jeans that only showed a hint of her true figure, Bonnie Bennett was a sensual person who could get a man to pledge his allegiance to her flag with a simple look, touch, or gesture.

She stopped suckling him which naturally made Damon's head snap up. "Why'd you stop?"

"There's a hair in my mouth," she plucked said object out of her mouth, flicked it away, and shifted again in the Jacuzzi tub causing the water to lap perilously close over the edge. "Now where was I? Oh, right. Here," she poked his erect left nipple with her finger before wedging it between her top and bottom lip.

Damon sighed happily. He had been returned to the top of Mt. Everest again.

But then that sigh turned into a hiss the second Bonnie buried her fangs into his man tit and began to feed.

"Ummmm," Damon moaned deeply, gutturally like a tiger on the hunt. He curled and uncurled his fingers and toes.

He returned to that place where a PowerPoint presentation of his life flashed in his mind's-eye and converged with feeling he was betraying the people closest to him. Constantly swapping blood and doing so, so frequently was like inviting a third person into your marriage. Damon was well aware of the risks and repercussions involved, but this all went hand-in-hand with his selfishness.

Quite simply he wanted it all. He wanted the wife, the kids, the dog, the mistress, and the girlfriend. However, what he wanted the most didn't lie in Mystic Falls.

His thoughts shifted to Bonnie and what he would do the second she grew tired of feeding on him.

And the second that thought passed through his brain was the second she stopped feeding. Damon lifted his head from the edge of the tub and stared at her. Toffee skin, sharp, hawk-like eyes that never missed a thing, dark hair pinned up in a messy bun, lips that were lightly speckled with his blood—that was the sight she presented to him.

For a vampire Bonnie was a very clean eater. Not a drop spilled or wasted. Most vampires made a mess because they had watched too many movies and probably figured you hadn't really fed unless your chin, neck, and shirt were drowned in blood. He was guilty of exhibiting bad table manners as well.

Sometimes a kill wouldn't be cooperative and things could get ugly.

The feed was nearly as important as the hunt. Scoping out prey was like a human going to a grocery store. You looked for sales if you had the time, but when the store was ten minutes to closing and you needed that last ingredient for the soufflé you were making, most of the time you had to grab and go. Being discovered was right up there with scoring. But when a vampire had time, when you could get to know your prey and appreciate what they were about to do for you, then finesse could be applied and everyone could walk away happy and in one piece.

"Full now?" Damon asked flippantly and broke the allure of her spell.

"Hardly." Bonnie rose from the tub and watched as Damon's Adam's apple bobbed up and down. He didn't blink so he wouldn't miss a moment of the bath water sluicing down her body. Unlike Damon, Bonnie had opted to remain in her underwear that was thoroughly wet and enticingly transparent.

She stepped out on the soft carpet on the floor and turned a little when she heard Damon whimper. Bonnie smiled, reached for a towel and took her time drying off her arms and legs.

"You should call her. I'm sure she's worried about you since she hasn't talked to you in the last…six hours. Must be a new record," Bonnie snorted.

Annoyed, Damon blindly reached for the bottle of champagne and brought it up to his lips. He guzzled greedily for a second and belched after he had gotten his fill.

"Looking into my thoughts again, Judgey," he chastised. "I thought we had come to some kind of agreement on that."

"No," she turned fully to face him. "We never agreed on anything other than you showing me a good time in NYC. So far things are sucking."

The insult was a challenge, Damon knew that. However, it irritated him no less that Bonnie was not taking him or this trip seriously and wanted to trivialize everything! He calmed himself down before speaking again.

"We're going out tonight and what you'll see I can fucking guarantee you've never seen in Mystic Falls."

"You see nothing but dead bodies and girls in petticoats in Mystic Falls. I have to keep reminding myself this is the twenty-first century, but you'd never know it with all those stupid _Gone with the Wind _traditions. Shit is annoying."

"Then why don't you," he was standing behind her now dripping on the floor, "Miss Bennett do something about it?"

She pivoted on the balls of her feet and grew slightly distracted with a few drops of blood on Damon's pectoral that managed not to end up in her mouth. Bonnie pouted slightly and wiped them off with her thumb before depositing it in her mouth. She moaned a bit. Damon mashed his back molars on top of one another.

Why did everything she do was such a damn turn on? Damon imagined her constipated on a toilet and she'd still find a way to make that look sexy.

"I would if I could but that might entail eating the council. The _new _council," she amended. "I can't now. My dad…he still doesn't know," she dropped her eyes to her toes.

Damon cupped her cheek knowing that being vulnerable in front of him was killing her. "Can't believe I'm about to say this, but you need to tell him the truth, Bonnie. It's been four months."

"I know how long it's been but how do I just go up to him and say…your ex-wife fed me her blood, snapped my neck, and I turned into a vampire? He'll ask questions about my magic, and I don't want to go there. Not yet. I'm not ready to accept…" Bonnie couldn't get the words out. There was a traffic jam in her mouth.

Damon bent his knees a little to be at eye-level with the newborn. "Not ready to accept what?"

Bonnie sighed and swiped a few strands of hair off her face. She pierced Damon right into his soul with her gaze. "I'm not ready to accept the fact I'm no longer a witch."

There. The final blow. The killing blow. The guillotine that had been hanging over Bonnie's head since the moment she drank Matt's blood and finished the transition. She hadn't been able to bring herself to say those words because she knew the minute she did all her hopes about going back to the beginning were over.

"The cure," Damon said suddenly.

Bonnie stared at him uncomprehendingly for a moment.

"If anyone deserves a second chance it's you, Bonnie."

Bonnie was quiet. Damon watched her think.

"Taking the cure means opening up a wholly different Pandora's Box. Taking the cure means waking Silas. He is the cure and we can't take that risk. I can't."

Damon nodded and dropped this particular conversation. "You said that you still feel connected…more connected to nature now that you're a vampire. So what does that tell you? You haven't stopped being a witch; that side of you is just dormant now. In hiding."

"Maybe," Bonnie looked away feeling doubtful.

"You want something bad enough you'll do what's necessary to get it. And for the record I'm not calling Elena or checking my phone."

"Rebel."

"Damn straight. She can go police everyone else and act like their mother. I brought you here for a reason."

"To get me away from Klaus."

Damon rolled his eyes and reached for his own towel. He stood less than a foot away from Bonnie while he dried himself off.

Their eyes stayed glued to one another even when he ran the towel over his prominent erection that was more than pissed at the both of them for its lack of use.

"Thinking what I'm thinking?" Damon smiled wolfishly.

"Nope," Bonnie shot him down and maneuvered around Damon. She reached the door, wrenched it open, and stepped into their bedroom.

Damon glanced at Bonnie when he could. Hummed as she peeled off her wet underwear. Sang off key as she took a real shower and popped out of the bathroom smelling like a platter of fruit. Ogled her legs while she applied lotion. Counted the number of times she brushed her hair. Took meticulous notes as she did her makeup.

Bonnie and Damon dressed in relative silence and by the time she was done he was working on his second bottle of champagne.

She scrunched up her nose. "I've been meaning to tell you this…you need to cut back on the alcohol."

Damon was instantly affronted. "Excuse me?"

Bonnie was doing that thing again where she moved without moving, weaving a spell with whatever magic was in the air as she came to stand between his parted legs. She reached for the bottle, took it out of his hands, and placed it on the night table before lightly cupping his face.

"Alcohol overrides the taste of your blood. When you drink a lot you taste like turpentine. I could smell it on you like trash rotting in the sun, and on those nights, I left you alone. But when you didn't have a single drop," she dragged the pad of her thumb over his blush pink lips, "that's when I decided to feed on you. I like your blood untainted. It's sweeter to me and," Bonnie craned Damon's neck as far back as it could go as she loomed over him, "I can never get enough."

Her hair became a curtain, entrapping them both in a shroud, making the world around them disappear.

"And here I thought you attacked me only when I wore black," he leered. "Consider me finished with alcohol," Damon proclaimed and ran his hands over her back and moving lower to grip her ass. He squeezed her cheeks and lifted her up slightly to straddle him.

Their lips became magnets and were fused together. Submitting, dominating, taking, and giving in equal measure. Everything a kiss between two alphas should be. Soft and gentle, hard or coarse, they shifted pressure when needed and added enough that they could have made diamonds.

Kissing was a gateway which could potentially lead to other things and they were already on a bed so…

"Why do we keep doing this?" Bonnie asked and pecked Damon's lips. "Why do we keep kissing each other?"

"Because we want to," he whispered and stabbed his tongue deep inside the vitch's mouth. "Because it feels and tastes good."

Bonnie swiped her tongue teasingly against his teeth before pulling away and fixing her clothes. "We should get going. You promised me a night out on the town."

"Rain check?" Damon crossed his fingers.

Wagging a finger, Bonnie pulled Damon up to his feet by the belt.

Both of them were decked out in black: Damon in form fitting leather pants and a mesh shirt that was teasingly transparent, hair styled in a Jared Leto-esque Mohawk. Bonnie donned skin-tight jeans, a risqué lyrca tank with deep cuts on the side that sort of gave a peek-a-boo effect. Five inch platform pumps adorned her feet, and a silver tiered necklace was the only jewelry she wore.

And she was wearing it well as Damon waited for her by the door and wondered if the twins might make a special appearance sometime tonight. Guess he would have to wait and see.

* * *

Painting the town red had a new meaning or maybe the original meaning had been exposed. Eyeing necks, cleavage, listening to couples quarreling debating if divide and conquer would even up the spoils, Damon had immersed himself in the life. Bonnie tagged along because she had no other choice. But he couldn't help but watch her from the corner of his eye, not out of fear she'd lose her mind because of all the options that walked around, but mainly he didn't want to miss a single moment of her in action.

Men stopped to gawk at her, even women and children they all seemed fascinated yet were too scared to approach. Bonnie was oblivious to it all as she touched whatever suited her fancy, smiled and blushed when she was complimented, and said sorry when she accidentally bumped into people.

Everything she did was calculated from the way she blinked her eyes owlishly, to the way she tilted her head and ran the tip of her tongue over her canine tooth. Not a single person in the nearby vicinity had been immune from her spell. They were all captivated and wondered if Bonnie were a model, actress, or famous for just being infamous. This was New York after all where people came "to make it" and live out the Broadway version of the American dream.

The pulse of the city was like quicksilver running through her veins. Occasionally she'd touch his arm to point out something that would be outlawed in Mystic Falls—mostly skyscraper sized ads advertising a number of violent crimes against women in order to sell a fragrance or a pair of pants. Did sex sell anything? No one needed to buy Versace to get laid. Damon drank her in while she tossed back the city like whiskey.

He tried not to react whenever Bonnie leaned up on her toes to whisper a comment in his ear about someone who looked like a prospective meal. He kept his focus on her words and not the light flutter of her berry red lips brushing the shell of his ear. This side to her was certainly different and off putting to Damon.

Perhaps he was still reconciling who she used to be to who she was now. A huntress fully off her leash.

He observed from the shadows as Bonnie sat down at a table in SoHo, surprising a man who had been reading a book while listening to U2 from his iPod. She engaged her mark in conversation, flirted with him, led him on to think that tonight was his lucky night. The man pretended to remove a piece of lint from her hairline when all he really wanted to do was touch her. Heat flashed through Damon momentarily before he told himself to knock it off. This was just a game. It didn't mean anything.

After ten minutes Bonnie rose from the table and walked down the deserted end of the street. The man eagerly followed behind her and when they disappeared around the corner, Damon turned up the volume of his ears and heard Bonnie as plain as day.

"This will only hurt a little."

"You can hurt me all you like," the man replied and Damon wondered if he was running his hands all over her.

He heard the distinct sound of skin breaking and blood flowing and Bonnie emitting little mewls of joy and pleasure.

Thankfully it was over soon enough, and he didn't have to be a voyeuristic third party any longer. Wind blew behind him, the chill signifying the arrival of a vampire. Slender fingers trekked up his arms and over his shoulders, and her lips were back at his ear.

"Did you enjoy watching that?"

Damon didn't answer but merely dragged Bonnie to an underground dance hall where Afro-Cuban and Calypso beats ruled. Commercial artists were prohibited in this place that featured local talent or music from the West Indies, Virgin Islands, Jamaica, and Barbados.

The gyrating bodies inside ranged from onyx black to milk-white. Natural twists, locks, afros, chemically relaxed tresses, wigs, tattoos and other forms of body art, sneakers to red bottoms, no one had been excluded entry and everyone was accepted. They were here because they loved music and they loved to dance and upon closer inspection a few loved to suck necks raw.

Men danced with women, women danced with both women and men, and some men dressed as women danced with men.

Bonnie stared mouth agape. Damon was right she had never seen anything like this in Mystic Falls. She looked up in surprise never thinking a place like this would interest the vampire standing next to her.

"What can I say," Damon shrugged as he pulled Bonnie flush against him. "I'm a bag full of surprises. There's no use in traveling if you're going to do the same thing in a new place that you'd do at home."

Lazily draping her arms over his shoulders, Bonnie began to move across the floor. "I suppose not."

Hours melted into one another and the music never took a break. Occasionally people were pushed to the outer ridges of the club when a dance battle would break out and patrons felt it was their duty to represent their country with signature moves to prove who was superior.

Several times Bonnie and Damon split up, went their separate ways but no matter which corner they ended up in their eyes would lock the second they found a willing donor who offered up a vein and a pledge of unwavering fealty.

By the time they met in the middle slightly dampened with sweat and smelling like a collaboration of scents, Damon held up a white and blue pill. Bonnie shook her head and said she didn't do drugs. He frowned a bit wondering if getting high was even possible since their healing abilities compensated any kind of infection, virus, or foreign invasion from taking root in their bodies. If it wasn't vervain or werewolf venom it would have little to zero effect, but Damon would have loved to document Bonnie popping a Molly or X. Corruption of the youth wasn't complete until you had them hooked on drugs.

Molding himself to her once again like Velco, he professed, "I know what your drug of choice is," and proceeded to bite into his tongue. A drop of blood formed on the tip.

Bonnie pulled away a bit, stared at the offering, then at Damon before pulling his head down. She swept her tongue over the blood, savored the spicy and heady taste. They made out for the rest of the night.

They shut the place down, reemerging to a world where the sky had transformed from night to day. Stores that had closed hours earlier were getting ready for the next influx of shoppers and Damon purchased Black Forest Calla Lilies and Queen of the Night Tulips for Bonnie because they reminded him of her hair when it was wet.

He could be an attentive suitor when he wanted to be.

Oh, shit he was courting her.

Sitting atop Trump Towers eating burgers and crinkle fries they watched the sunrise.

"I'll race you back to the hotel," Damon winked and jumped off the roof of the building, hopefully no one was thinking he was committing suicide. As soon as his boots hit the pavement he was off rushing down the avenue maneuvering too fast to be seen by human eyes and arrived at their hostel in seconds with Bonnie close on his heels.

When the door slammed shut and they were upstairs, Bonnie on her back, Damon over her, the moment felt too surreal to them both. Bonnie pulled the strap down to her tank top as a silent invitation for him to drink from her. Damon licked his lips, bent his head, opened his mouth, and stopped.

Could his actions be construed as cheating? Technically Damon supposed he was with Elena though there weren't any official labels between them. Being a couple was implied. She was still sired to him despite the fact the bond didn't seem as ironclad as it once was. And how could he trust her feelings were genuine when there'd always be a part of her that would do whatever he said to make him happy?

But…he couldn't deny he loved her.

What was happening between him and Bonnie wasn't right, either. He wasn't completely single. He and Bonnie weren't friends, could be friendly to one another on occasion but it had never been anything that was earth-shattering. There were things about her he liked _a lot, _and there were things about him that she knew that no one else did. Did that give her an unfair advantage or even the playing field?

Too many questions and too many obstacles and obligations stood in the way.

"I can't do this," Damon slipped away and got off the bed.

Bonnie sat up and peered at him in confusion. "Can't do what? We weren't doing anything."

He sighed heavily, faced her, and warred with climbing back into bed and finishing what had been set in his mind and heart to do.

"We can't keep doing this, Bonnie. You can't keep feeding on me and I can't keep feeding on you."

A determined look to change his mind came into her eyes but he had already walked out the door.

Bonnie found him staring out the window in the living room.

"I'm going to take a plane back to Mystic Falls," he said. "You can have my car. Enjoy the room, enjoy the city, but I can't be here with you anymore."

"You pick a fine time to grow a conscience, Damon."

He shrugged because he couldn't disagree. "You'll thank me for it later."

In a blink, Damon stood in front of Bonnie. What an abrupt way to end what had been the best twenty-four hours of his life in a_ very_ long time. He didn't know what else to say to her except…

"I'll see you back in Mystic Falls."

End of Part I.

**A/N: I know, I know, I know so freaking abrupt. My apologies. Don't worry I have it all planned out. Okay so I so totally ripped the bathtub scene from Queen of the Damned (don't sue me), and I know the party scene has been done to death and that's why I didn't want to spend too much time on it. Damon has some soul retconning to do once he makes it back to Mystic Falls. You know me. Expect twists and turns. Stay tuned…**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Hello kittens. Here is Part II in the Cat & Mouse/Mine Again series finale. Yea! Thank you to everyone who read, reviewed, added to your list of faves, alerted. *Blows you a big kiss and a fist pump* Enjoy!**

Disclaimer: These characters are the creative property of LJ Smith and The CW. No copyright infringement is intended.

* * *

"_**The smell of her hair, the taste of her mouth, the feeling of her skin seemed to have got inside him, or into the air all around him. She had become a physical necessity." –George Orwell, 1984.**_

For two weeks his hell had been inescapable. He dreamt of nothing but fanged women, some of them with _her_ face, others he had seduced and killed, many more he thought he loved, but _she_ had remained the dominate factor.

He dodged questions, sad auburn eyes demanding an explanation for his disappearing act, and the guilt alone had Damon catapulting to the deep end of denial when he would tell Elena that everything was fine, that nothing was going on with him, that he had a lot on his mind he had to deal with, that she didn't need to worry about a thing.

Those were all lies. Lies he literally saw march out of his mouth and dance around the living room as he tried to convince himself that the girl with the long, mahogany hair and the face of an angel still held his heart, still owned him mind, body, and soul.

The first time he saw Bonnie after their impromptu trip to New York, Damon felt as if he had been hit with a sledgehammer upside the head. All the blood in his body rushed to his brain and he thought for a second she was giving him an aneurysm, but her eyes had been fixed on the guy seated across from her at a booth at the Grille, a huge beguiling smile on her face, her fingers absently playing in her hair.

Was she on a date? Had she driven that bastard in _his _car?

That was another thing. He hadn't struck up the courage to get his car back and Bonnie hadn't exactly delivered it to him, either.

Damon took up his usual spot at the bar, planted his elbows on the polished wood top, and trained his ears like a sonar wave to pick up every single nuance of her conversation. She laughed and it sounded like bells. She gasped when the guy told her something she hadn't expected and it made Damon think of rolling around on cotton sheets; she made a point and he annoyingly felt himself agreeing with her logic.

She was sickening!

He made sure he spoke in a clear, _loud _voice as he ordered the best bourbon this piss poor excuse for a restaurant had to offer. He was going to get drunk and drunker still.

Alcohol made him taste like turpentine, she said. Damon figured he could do one better and taste like cobra venom by the end of the night.

Hour after hour, drink after drink, he sat there on that barstool, sullen, pouting, and missing something that had never been explicitly his. He kept watch of his surroundings through and by his peripheral vision, and before he knew it, the place was shutting down and Stefan had been called to drive him home.

Yet Damon had to torture himself and get one final look. The guy, the bum, the lame was helping Bonnie into her coat and that look in her eyes like she couldn't believe someone could be this wonderful and dreamy…she had looked at him like that at some point. Damon was sure of it.

Who was that guy? Where'd he come from? Would he be missed if he mysteriously went missing?

Why did he sorta, kinda look like Stefan?

"Are you ever going to tell me what happened to your car?" Stefan asked and drove out of the parking lot.

Damon, head resting against the window, ignored his little brother.

"What's going on with you, Damon? I've never seen you like this. You weren't even this despondent when you found out the truth about Katherine. Is it…are you and…"

Cutting him off, Damon said, "No, my woes don't begin and end with Elena."

Wrong girl, wrong color, wrong height, wrong smell, wrong blood, just wrong everything.

"Then what?" Impatience overrode compassion in Stefan. "You disappeared for almost two days, came back and you've been like this. In a funk. We may not always be close or have a typical brother-to-brother relationship but if you need to talk it out, I'm here, man."

"I hear you, Stefan but trust me you don't want to know what's going on."

Stefan mulled over his brother's words for a second. "Is it life threatening?"

"No."

Stefan let out a relieved sigh. So long as Damon wasn't dying and he didn't need to make a deal with Klaus or anyone else to save his life, Stefan would let Damon handle whatever problem he's cooked up for himself this week. The saga with the elder Salvatore never seemed to end. Stefan thought Damon would be walking around with an ear-to-ear grin on his face everyday now that he did the impossible by making Elena fall in love with him, but come to think of it, Stefan had rarely seen them together the last several weeks.

Damon only fell into a funk for two reasons: he or someone he cared about was dying, or it was a woman. A woman he cared a great deal about but didn't want anyone let alone himself to know.

Something hot poked at Stefan's insides. His brother wouldn't be stupid enough to fall for someone else while being with Elena. Directing his gaze to see the dull, flat look on Damon's face, Stefan would say it was indeed possible.

"Gotdamn you, Damon!" Stefan swore and made the turn off on the street leading to the manor.

"What? What did I do?"

"You tell me."

"I seriously have no clue what you're talking about."

Stefan turned off the engine the minute he parked the car but didn't move to get out. Neither did Damon. The two brothers stared at one another, unblinking.

"Your relationship with Elena is none of my business and I want no part of it, but if you've done something you need to come clean and be honest about it. Whatever you're harboring is only going to make things worse. And frankly, I don't want to be around for the aftermath. Handle it, Damon. Fix whatever it is you've done."

Yeah, Damon knew that. Knew he had to tell Elena the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, but did he have to do so right now?

More days passed, and he hadn't cracked the seal on his mouth. Anytime Damon struck up the courage to let Elena know his path would intersect with Bonnie's.

He saw her again, strolling through downtown with a different guy, drinking her favorite frappuccino. Damon flashed a smile that she barely noticed but the guy she had been strutting beside gave him a head nod and he saw the guy wasn't a guy but a vampire. The lapis lazuli ring was a dead giveaway. And the guy nearly resembled Klaus.

What was going on?

Damon may have blacked the rest of the night out because he woke up in bed not remembering a single thing. He touched both sides of his neck expecting to see blood on his fingers, kind hoped for it actually, but his skin and clothes were as clean and dry as a bone.

So what happened?

The empty and smashed bottles of bourbon, brandy, and Hennessy may have been the cause of his memory loss.

Damon stopped drinking.

It was hard adjusting from drinking hard liquor to eating hard candy. But he needed the substitute. Damon needed this something new, something old, something borrowed, because something blew. His mind, his situation, his life.

He was blowing it all with his inability to just let his dealings with Bonnie go and move forward with Elena. Damon vowed to tell her the truth and weather whatever storm that may be unleashed; however, he curtailed that because Jeremy's birthday was coming up and Elena had been planning his party for weeks. Didn't want to ruin it so he'd keep his mouth sewn shut for a little while longer.

Things were going fine. Damon put on a performance worthy of an Oscar nod as he danced and twirled Elena around the room, wouldn't let her out of his sight for longer than five seconds. She couldn't stop smiling, giggling, or making cute little faces; his stomach wouldn't stop knotting, his conscience wouldn't stop screaming. He thought he could fake it until he made it to bedtime.

Once again a monkey wrench was thrown into his carefully crafted plans when Bonnie arrived looking like sex on a stick. She wove her way through the crowd, pulled Jeremy aside and talked almost intimately into his ear. The boy couldn't erase that stupid smirk off his face even if you threatened to saw it off.

Damon hadn't realized he crushed the tumbler in his hand to pieces until Bonnie looked up at him sharply. He straightened his spine thinking this was it, she would finally acknowledge his existence after he abandoned her in New York. Bonnie took a step forward, then stopped, appeared conflicted, then angry. She was fighting something but Damon watched as her eyes zeroed in on his hand and he smelled his blood in the air.

Frowning, Damon watched the cuts in his skin heal yet his hand was still drenched in red fluid. When he glanced back up to see if Bonnie had gone into trance mode because she had a particular hankering for his blood, he wasn't shocked to discover she had fled the scene.

The mouse had gone but the cat would follow.

* * *

If she were surprised to see him standing in her bedroom by the very window he used to enter her room the first time, Damon couldn't tell. She didn't let out a startled shriek, nor did she slap a hand over her thumping heart. Her eyes didn't widen, her mouth didn't fall into the shape of an O; she simply looked at him questionably before promptly writing him off.

"Not surprised to see me?" Damon punctuated the silence and tension with a question.

"Should I be?" came Bonnie's retort as she threw her purse into the chair that sat caddy corner next to the closet door. Slender hands poised on her hips, she rubbed her lips over one another.

"You figured I'd come? That I'd say enough was enough and to quit pretending as if you don't want to feed off of me?"

Bonnie merely hitched an eyebrow in the air.

Damon looked away because clearly his weakness was showing. She was the one who held all the chips, was the possessor of the cards, held fate, life and death in her hands and all he wanted was five seconds of her time and attention.

"Why are you here, Damon? You made it perfectly clear that you didn't want to continue doing what we were doing. Did _you _think I was going to try to change your mind? Is that what you've been secretly hoping for?"

He wasn't going to give justification to her rational questions. His being here was for one purpose only: to end this stalemate between them. Forcing himself to look at her, which really wasn't a chore because she was beautiful to behold, Damon sighed heavily and then yanked his shirt clean off and turned his head to the side hoping that fat artery in his neck was bulging.

"You win," he moodily replied.

"I win what?"

"Just _feed._"

"I'm not interested."

He refaced the stubborn pseudo-hybrid and glowered. For weeks Damon stood back, occupied the sidelines as Bonnie lived her life or at the very least put on a very convincing production that she was enjoying the hell out of being immortal. But he knew better. A prideful girl like her just wouldn't simply roll over and accept the heaping amount of bullshit that landed on her plate with a smile on her face and dance in her heart. While the others may have allowed ignorance and blindness to hide the truth, it had been written as plain as day, though Damon would admit he was a little slow in deciphering it.

No witch, and especially not one that hailed from the bloodline Bonnie came from would _ever _be okay or accept the fact her life had been taken from her and was replaced with something else because her friends were too unoriginal in figuring out another way to help her.

They took the easy way out. Shot in the dark and hoped they hit the right target after the lights came on. But they missed. Terribly.

"Bonnie…_stop_."

A corner of her eye squinted in confusion. "Stop what? Being a hostess? That's simple, then. Get. Out."

"Stop pretending that you're fine with what happened to you!"

Whatever rebuttal Bonnie had ready to spew died in a flash. She swallowed, went absolutely still, and then in the next instant looked down at her feet.

"That's what you do," Damon proceeded with caution knowing that her fortress walls were starting to tumble and fall down. "That's what you _always _do_. _Something shitty happens, you get knocked down, you instantly forgive and never demand better from the ones who hurt you."

"…be quiet…" Bonnie mumbled pleadingly under her breath so low Damon barely heard her, but he did and refused to listen.

"This isn't you. You're not okay with what you are. You're not happy with being a vampire. You. _Are_. In. Pain. You're miserable. I can see it now when I couldn't before. This wasn't supposed to be your life…"

"…stop talking…"

"You don't have to go around acting like you're enjoying life; that you accept what you are. You're not supposed to be a vampire. Your life wasn't supposed to be cut off that night. You're not supposed to be this!"

Bonnie lifted her head and shouted, "I said be quiet!" her face vamped out as crystal tears rolled down her cheeks. Bonnie laughed self-deprecatingly and placed a hand on her forehead. "I can't even…" her words became garbled and her throat ached horribly from repressing the urge to scream. "I can't even cry without this happening," she indicated the wriggling black veins under her bloodshot eyes.

Damon crossed over the room and stood before in her in less than two seconds. He wiped a tear tract away with the pad of his thumb. "I didn't want this to happen to you, Bonnie. I never wanted this to happen to you. And this might sound harsh but I would have preferred if you died then live out the rest of your life as the thing you hate."

Bonnie shook her head and sniffled. Opened her mouth, then shut it. Shifted her weight on her feet, and decided.

Resigned she stared up at Damon. "I hate waking up like this everyday. Being a witch that's who I was…and it was taken from me," she cried brokenly. "I can't get it back."

Nodding his head, Damon remained rooted to his spot despite the overwhelming urge to pull Bonnie in for a hug.

"I thought if I acted like it didn't matter then eventually it wouldn't matter," Bonnie swallowed the lump in her throat.

"You need to grieve about this," Damon told her. "You've pushed it all to the side and haven't dealt with a fucking thing."

Bonnie averted her eyes, "I don't want to."

"Because it hurts and it's gonna hurt but how else do you expect things to get better if you don't go through the pain first?" Damon lifted her chin so he could look into her swollen and watery eyes. "You attacking me had nothing to do with getting even…it was a cry for help, a cry for attention. You needed someone to see…"

The crying newborn couldn't deny Damon's hypothesis mainly because Bonnie didn't want to put too much stock in the fact that the elder Salvatore could be eerily perceptive when he applied himself. If it had only been as simple as giving herself a new hobby, or going after Damon to pay him back for the times he scared her, made her feel insignificant and stupid if she couldn't pull off a spell, and for what he did to Abby, but it wasn't.

"You needed someone to see things never should have come down to this," he finished his observation.

Nibbling on her bottom lip, Bonnie wiped a tear away with the heel of her hand. "So now what? You report me to the authorities? Stage another intervention?"

"No," Damon shook his head. "I'm going to do what any good friend would do for another…I'm going to grieve with you."

Bonnie stared at the conviction and seriousness on his face in astonishment and disbelief before she started crying again. Harder. The kind of crying that would be embarrassing to do in public, the kind that contorted your face, the kind that racked your body, the kind someone wrapped their arms around you and held on to you letting you know that everything would be all right as soon as you got past this storm.

They ended up on her bed, Bonnie's head on Damon's chest while he cradled her, and periodically kissed the crown of her head or her temple. She could smell his saline tears and never thought she'd see the day Damon would cry for her and with her. This whole moment was more than surreal it was unfathomable. Damon didn't go out of his way like this for someone he supposedly hated, for someone he didn't care about. Bonnie couldn't put into words the flux of emotions that rippled through her as she dealt with her own feelings of injustice, loss, fury, loneliness, derision, and disappointment that those closest to her or had been at one point couldn't see what Damon saw.

But she didn't want anyone else to comfort and get her through this other than him.

All night they remained locked together, occasionally shifting on the bed and Damon asking her if she were all right; if she had anything else to get out, if she had any more tears left to cry. He'd give her this night, but after that things were changing.

This wasn't his first night not sleeping with a woman while sharing a bed, but it was definitely his first night holding a woman and simply being the support she needed. For the first time in an absurdly long time, Damon Salvatore felt like a man.

Birds started chirping as the sun rose in the sky. Bonnie moved against him, stretching the kinks and knots out of her body like a cat. She yawned and then craned her neck to meet Damon's gaze. His was unfiltered and intimidating with its potency.

"Good morning," she said softly.

"Good morning."

She looked hesitant to ask her next question. "Is anyone waiting for you at the boardinghouse?"

"Probably, but I'm not quite ready to go yet." Pause. "How do you feel?"

Bonnie's chin quivered and she had to quickly look away, but Damon saw the fresh batch of tears that were ready to make their debut. However, she took a deep breath and said:

"I'm not okay but I'm okay with saying that."

"Then that's progress."

"What happens with us?" Bonnie chanced asking.

To that, unfortunately, the blue-eyed vampire didn't have an answer. Oh sure there were lots of directions he wanted things to go with Bonnie, yet there was something Damon knew he had to do and it was something he had put off long enough.

"We can talk about that later," he sat up leaving Bonnie no choice but to relinquish her hold on him. Damon reached for his shirt and put it on. "I need to get going. I'll call you later."

Bewildered and rumpled, Bonnie did nothing but nod and then watch him leave. He came back two seconds after walking out the door to kiss her forehead, and then he was gone again.

DBDBDBD

He didn't go to the boardinghouse straightaway. Damon did several hours of procrastinating and lollygagging first mainly because he was avoiding one specific person, and someone he'd have to talk to and come clean with—inevitably.

Things with Bonnie used to be cut and dry, simple and easy. He'd pester her, she'd shoot him down. She'd need his muscle so she would have room and space to do a spell. He'd make a snarky remark, she'd give him a threatening, un-amused look, and at the end of the day everyone went home patting themselves on the back for beating the odds of death for another day.

Last night they had surpassed their usual routine. They were friends. And, well, Damon had never had a real friend before. Not discounting his bromance with Rick. That was different, and maybe sometimes one-sided. Alaric had been a much better friend and one Damon could honestly say he didn't deserve than he had been to the late history teacher and vampire hunter.

There had been Rose, but that started out as two lonely people making a sexual connection to take their minds off their pathetic lives for a couple of hours. He liked her because she saw under his mask, and didn't pull any punches, and in many ways she shared common traits with Bonnie. But again what was brewing between him and Ms. Bennett was unlike anything Damon had ever experienced.

And that scared the shit out of him.

He wasn't ready to haul off and start using the L word or anything preposterous like that. Damon was positive that he didn't love Bonnie. He loved drinking her blood when she'd let him, and he loved their dynamic, but…

Deliberately switching his thoughts, Damon pulled his car into the driveway and his stomach sank to his toes. Elena was here. Jenna's Mini Cooper was parked in his spot.

Sighing heavily, Damon exited the car and wondered if he could perhaps sneak in without being detected. It would have been hella easy when Elena was still human, but now that her senses were just as sharp as his it would be almost impossible to make it up to his bedroom so he could shower and change clothes. He was drenched in Essence of Bonnie and Damon didn't have any kind of explanation worked out in his head as to why he smelled like he took a bath in the doppelganger's best friend.

And it was far too late to try to sneak anyways. Elena heard him pulling up.

Stepping through the front door, the first thing to smack Damon in the face was the smell of marinara sauce and noodles boiling.

Oh, how sweet. She was making him dinner. At three in the afternoon.

Since Elena was tinkering away in the kitchen, Damon zoomed up to his room, stripped out of his clothes which he buried at the very bottom of his hamper, hopped in the shower, scrubbed himself thoroughly and washed his hair twice.

He had just wrapped a towel around his lean waist when the door to his room slowly opened and an olive face popped through.

"Hey," Elena smiled brightly and then quickly scanned his body. She approached Damon and kissed him on the mouth. "I wanted to surprise you by cooking you dinner. I didn't know when you'd be back. You were gone all night."

Though she said the words with a tight smile on her face, suspicion lined those umber eyes.

"Yeah," Damon walked over to his dresser and pulled out a plain black T-shirt and a pair of socks. "I was helping out a friend with something."

Elena helped herself to a seat on the foot of the bed. She visually stalked Damon as he moved from one corner of his room to the next. "You were helping out a friend with something? Can I ask what?"

"I rather not say at the moment," he dodged. "Something smells good though," Damon tossed her a conciliatory wink while he pulled on a pair of jeans.

"I decided to cook since you never returned my phone call where I asked if we could go to dinner," the frustrated brunette waited for Damon to explain himself. He didn't. Wouldn't even give her the courtesy of looking at her. "Damon…what's going on? We haven't done anything or hung out in weeks. I know you asked for space because you were going through something, but I'm tired of being in the dark."

"Elena…" Damon didn't continue until he was standing in front of her. He braced his hands on her shoulders before running them down her arms and taking hold of her hands. "I know I've been distant lately and I want to tell you everything that's been going on. It's complicated."

"What's complicated?" her tone had turned somewhat demanding.

Did he want to do this now? There'd never be a good time to tell the woman you doggedly pursued for years, and achieved that illusive dream of claiming her heart and body that shortly thereafter you've lost your passion for her. When Damon looked at Elena, was around her, that anticipatory rush which sailed through his veins had vanished, fallen into a drift. She was familiar to him, easy going, complicated in her ordinariness. She was special because she shared the face of the first vampire he loved. She had been his paragon for rewriting history and being granted a second chance.

However, she had belonged to someone else and he got in the way. He didn't get just in the way; he planted himself in the way—firmly and with little fucks to give. Now they were together, he supposed, sire-bond aside, but did they ever have a strong basis to start a relationship on? Did they ever have a fair shot?

Like the plague Damon avoided asking himself those questions because he knew he wouldn't like the answers.

He could very well destroy whatever future Elena had cooked up in her head concerning them the second he revealed the truth.

And that actually didn't bother Damon. Not as much… say a few months ago.

He took a step back. "Everything is complicated."

"With vampires it usually is," Elena made a go for humor and it fell flat. She was trying to tell her insides to settle down and her mind not to jump to any conclusions but with Damon one always had to prepare to hear the worst.

"Look," Damon licked his lips mostly as a stall tactic. "Let me start by telling you that I wasn't alone…in New York. Bonnie was with me."

Elena merely blinked at him uncomprehendingly and waited anxiously for him to continue. "Okay," she folded her arms tightly over her chest. "What were you two doing in New York?"

"Before I get into all of that you remember that short period of time where I was being attacked?" Elena nodded. Damon continued. "It was Bonnie."

"She attacked you?" her voice carried the right amount of disbelief and confusion. "Why would she do that?"

"Again that's complicated. It went on for about a month. She'd show up in a sneak attack, and I'd wake up somewhere mainly here with two blood bags waiting for me. I took her to New York because she told me that Klaus was courting her or at least trying to."

"And you wanted to keep her away from him?" Elena guessed but felt there were huge, gaping tractor trailer sized holes in Damon's story. She knew him well enough to know when he was willfully omitting information. He never said _how _Bonnie attacked him. "What did she do to you, Damon?"

Here comes the tricky part, he thought. Damon wanted to be honest but there was the other side of him that also wanted to protect Bonnie and keep what the two of them had been doing on the low-low. Elena would freak the fuck out, rightfully so, and once the dust cleared he'd be lucky if his balls were still intact and Elena didn't haul off to confront Bonnie.

"She…Bonnie…she drank my blood until I was nearly dry and she'd snap my neck," he shrugged nonchalantly.

Elena's hand flew to her mouth and her eyes widened as she tried to imagine her elfin friend overpowering and getting the better of Damon.

Wait.

The older a vampire was the stronger they were. Damon could have easily gained the upper hand on Bonnie at anytime he liked, but for whatever reason he didn't. Unless Bonnie injected him with vervain but again Damon made no mention of that.

"So Bonnie would sneak up on you, drain you to the point of death, and she'd snap your neck? Did she inject you with vervain beforehand?" Elena inquired. Damon shook his head and looked a little shamefaced but not nearly enough. "So what you're really saying is you allowed her to drink your blood?"

"I…did. After the first time it happened I chalked it up to a fluke. I didn't think she'd come after me again, but she did, and it kept happening. And before you ask why I never brought it up I didn't bring it up because I wanted to deal with it on my own. She was coming after me and I considered it pointless to involve anyone else."

"But you should have told _me, _Damon! Here I was thinking you were being attacked by a werewolf or another vampire, I guess you were, but I never would have imagined that it was Bonnie. Oh my God."

"What would you have done if I had come to you about this, Elena? Asked her politely to stop turning me into a juice pouch? You think she would have listened? Like I said, it was between me and her."

Shaking her head, Elena fixed her eyes on Damon. "You're not telling me something."

"You're right, I'm not. Things escalated."

"How?" that queasy feeling in the pit of Elena's stomach had returned.

"I…I started drinking her blood."

All life left Elena's face. Everything in the room faded to black a part from Damon. He was the only thing she could see and what she saw she didn't like. Was he seriously standing in front of her _telling_ her that he had been blood-sharing with her best friend whom she had been walking around on eggshells with since before she was turned into a vampire?

Damon could only fathom the thoughts running through Elena's mind. He knew what he would be thinking if the situation were reversed, and Elena admitted to drinking another vampire's blood, specifically a friend of his. He'd be ready to tear the both of them apart with his bare hands.

"I don't….I can't believe…why?" Elena stammered and felt her nose tingle and her eyes swelling with tears.

"It just happened, Elena. There was no rhyme or reason," he added delicately hoping to soften the blow but knew it would be virtually impossible.

"NO!" she exploded. "There is _always _a reason for why _everything_ happens. Especially with you! You were blood-sharing with my best friend! Do you know what that means? It's a form of intimacy. I didn't know that when you did it to me, not until Stefan explained the implications involved, and you would willingly do it with Bonnie!"

"Elena," Damon took a step towards her but she jerked back and held up a hand in warning. Tears spilled from her eyes and Damon's jaw ticked. He was tired of being around crying ass chicks, but he was the reason why he made two very different women cry.

"No," she said again and felt pain stab her repeatedly in the heart.

The both of them played her like a fool while she walked around as if everything was beginning to click back into place. Bonnie had slowly been coming around, but now Elena understood why. Her bestie had Damon eating out of the palm of her hand—literally, and he, well he was getting the best of both worlds. He had her love though he often behaved as if he didn't care she loved him, and he had his secret rendezvous with Bonnie.

Elena had crossed the room and slapped his head from east to west before she realized what she had done.

"I can't believe you would do that to us, Damon! You really don't care about me or this relationship because if you did you never would have started drinking Bonnie's blood and you _never _would have kept this from me for so long. But I forgot," she laughed gaily, "you get off on lying to people. You parade around in your man-pain and act like the world owes you something because some bitch didn't love you back. I gave you my love. I broke the heart of a _good_ man for_ you_," she stabbed him in the chest with her finger. "And you throw it all back in my face because you're a coward and a prick. A greedy, selfish asshole."

Damon couldn't say anything in his defense and it wouldn't change the facts as they were.

"You don't care about me, about Stefan, or Bonnie. I don't even think you care about yourself because if you did you'd treat people the way you'd want them to treat you," Elena breathed harshly through her nostrils while trying to get her bearings under control. "Do you have feelings for Bonnie?"

"Yes."

Elena opened her mouth but then it snapped shut. She hadn't expected him to be honest.

Hearing himself say that put a lot of things into perspective for Damon. Didn't mean he liked it, but he was tired of lying. He didn't like harboring feelings for one girl when he had pledge his heart to another. What did it say about him? That he was insatiable? That he'd never be satisfied with what he had? That he had no honor?

Suffice to say he spent the next six hours listening to Elena vent about nearly everything she had kept bottled up. How she regretted defending him to Caroline and shaming her friend for quickly jumping into bed with him despite the fact she, Elena could barely wait a day after breaking up with Stefan to do the same thing. How she forgave him for hurting the people close to her though she wasn't in a position to forgive him since his acts hadn't been geared towards her, or maybe they were on some unconscious level.

Then she moved on to the heavy duty stuff by saying being with her had never been about _her_, but about getting what Stefan had.

Perhaps she had a point. Mentally, Damon didn't want to go there.

Insults were hurled, loyalty and loved was questioned and at the end they both agreed they probably wouldn't have worked long-term. Not while the sire-bond was still in place though Elena doubted she could feel a single shred of it left. Pleasing Damon was the absolute last thing on her mind at the moment, and Damon tried once again to grant her, her freedom. She left by slamming the front door, said she'd get what things she left in his room later, and he let her go.

Traipsing downstairs to get his first drink in a week, Damon held the tumbler up to his lips, paused, inhaled the tear-inducing aroma, and tossed it back.

* * *

"When someone hurts you, you want to hurt them back. It's the rule of the jungle."

Damon grunted but otherwise didn't make a comment, or remove his eyes from the ceiling of his bedroom. He was all talked out, wanted to be left alone so he could wallow in, what was that phrase Elena said? Yes, right, man-pain. The last thing he wanted was to be faced with the _exact_ reason Elena was probably badmouthing him all over town. Not like he cared about any of that. Reputations could be rebuilt overtime and at the end of the day it wasn't important. It didn't matter. Yes, in the olden days a man was only as good or worth the time of day based on his reputation. But times had changed severely and people were more so swayed by their emotions than anything else.

He'd be fine in a couple of weeks.

"Talk to me, Damon."

"I don't want to talk and least of all to you. You've done quite enough. Thanks," he tacked on sarcastically.

The bed dipped signifying she made herself quite at home, but still he didn't budge his attention. Who knew the grooves in the paneled ceiling could make such interesting shapes.

The longer she remained parked on his bed the higher Damon felt his irritation climbing. What right did she have to be here after he lost Elena because of his inability to learn control, to be faithful, to tell the truth? It was all her fault! He wouldn't be feeling the way he felt now if she had left his ass alone, went after another vampire, and then he wouldn't have gotten it into his head that he wanted to taste her blood as badly as she wanted his. Then those stupid, pointless things called _feelings_ wouldn't have bloomed and blossomed in his heart. He wouldn't have felt a single shred of jealousy in seeing her going out on dates with random losers, being tickled with the idea of Klaus courting her, or seeing her smile at that emo loser who allowed a hot, feisty girl like her to slip through his fingers.

Damn her!

Damon whipped his head to stare at public enemy number one and came up stupid.

Her hair was a cloud of curls around her heart shaped face. A face he would have been hard pressed to believe had been crippled with pain and anguish last night. Those wicked and sweet tasting lips were painted blood-red, but the one thing her beauty couldn't disguise was the regret in her viridian orbs.

"I'm guessing you had a visitor," he said.

Bonnie nodded her head. "Things almost turned violent. I guess I've succeeded in making Elena hate me as much as I_ resented_ her."

"You resented her?"

"Does that surprise you? I may have behaved like a robot only because I felt like that was the only way for me to survive. I tried not to. I tried to fight feeling as if my best friend wasn't solely responsible for why I lost so much in my life. It's hard staring into the face of the person that everyone around you would fuck you over for in order to save. I lost my mother twice because of Elena. My grams. My powers. I lost myself. I could continue the list but I won't."

Damon sat up and braced his weight against the headboard. "So this whole thing between you and me had been part of your diabolical revenge plan?" He tried not to feel a pang of anger about Bonnie potentially using him just to get back at Elena.

"It may have started out that way and then it became something totally different."

"Then what the hell do you want with me now, Bonnie? You got what you wanted. Me out of a girlfriend, and Elena feeling betrayed. Or is that not enough for you?"

Uncharacteristically, Bonnie straddled him and Damon gulped. "How deep should I twist the knife? Should I make Stefan fall in love with me? Should I kill Jeremy in his sleep? What do you think I should do to get my message across?"

Hmm, Damon's mind began to zoom with ideas and possibilities but he shook them loose, grabbed Bonnie by the hips and plucked her off of him. He was standing on his feet in a second.

"You need to leave."

"Damon…_stop_."

He turned around so fast he almost toppled over. Oh, so she was going to use his lines against him now. Was that the new game?

Bonnie strolled up to him walking in that signature way that captivated his mind. He peered down at her when she stood less than a foot away.

"Out of everyone, you were the only one who connected the dots and saw what was _really _happening to me. You were the only one to tell me it was okay that I didn't have to accept what I was. You were the only one who was upset that this happened to me in the first place. I remember hearing your voice in asking why they thought turning me was the only way. And maybe you have an unfair advantage because I started this whole thing between us…but at anytime you could have told the others what I was doing. You didn't."

"Because…I'm a selfish prick asshole with man-pain issues," he rolled his eyes feeling flippant.

Bonnie snorted. "I won't disagree with that," she shook her head and took a step closer. So close they stood chest-to-chest. "You didn't say anything because you care about me. And I care about you, too. Don't walk away from this."

"You expect me to believe you want me? After everything that's been said and done?"

"Think about this, Damon. If I wasn't interested in you do you think I would have gone with you to New York? You think I would have kissed you? Does that sound like something Bonnie Bennett would ever allow?"

The blue-eyed devil made a restless motion with his shoulders. "Being a vampire can change people."

"Amplify what's already there. Or so I've been told."

It took some doing but Damon swallowed the lump in his throat. "Are you…are you trying to say you've always had a thing for me, Judgey?"

"I'm saying, I knew there was always more to you than what meets the eye. I just wanted to see it for myself, and I'm glad I did. You are beautifully damaged, Damon and so am I," Bonnie ran her hand from his chest to his neck, her fingers burrowing in his hair at the nape. "What are we going to do about this?"

"I don't know. But I know what we're not going to do. We're not going to waste another minute settling for less than what we deserve."

Her eyes sparkled then, and Bonnie rose to stand on her toes. "And I don't want to waste another minute without tasting your blood," she lunged teeth sharp and ready only for Damon to lean out of the way.

"Fangs. In," he admonished and held her by the wrists. "I've learned my lesson. I'm only blood-sharing with my girlfriend and I don't have one at the moment."

Bonnie backed down and settled on her feet. "But you will. One day. And she'll be all yours."

* * *

**In the not so distant future…**

It was a quarter past two in the morning. People in this section of Virginia were already tucked deeply into their beds, dreaming and drooling on themselves, but not Damon. He was flying down the deserted two lane highway bobbing his head to the crooning voice of Janice Joplin, the volume cut down low. He stretched and curled his aching hand while maneuvering the gear shit and clutching the steering wheel. Oceanic eyes darted to the passenger that was brooding in the bucket seat, lips pursed. He smirked a little, turned up the volume and began to sing annoyingly loud to the music.

A caramel hand immediately dimmed the volume and glared at him before staring out the windshield once more.

"You can't still be mad at me about what happened."

His statement was met with a wall of silence.

"Come on! Cut me some slack. Give me _some _credit for acting."

"A turtle would have moved much faster than you did," Bonnie criticized. "And would have been much more intimidating. When did you become so soft? I swear you've lost your edge."

Damon widened his eyes in incredulity. "You take that back," he pointed a finger in her direction. "I am truly offended you would say that about me," he laid a hand on his chest to emphasize his point.

Bonnie guffawed. "I know you have an established head canon where you believe you're the toughest, most dangerous vampire lurking around Mystic Falls, but I'm afraid you've abdicated that title to someone else."

"Who?"

Bonnie stared at Damon head on. "Me."

He scoffed rudely and laughed shamelessly. "_Please!_ When's the last time you did something dangerous? Paint your nails while standing by a gas stove? Look, I may have had to repeat myself but the guy got the message the second I planted my foot in his ass."

"In the olden days it wouldn't have had to come to violence. Your aura alone should have been frightening enough to scare everyone, put everyone on notice that death just stepped through the door, and they better not so much as breathe wrong. You blend now, Damon. The only reason you stand out is because of your looks."

"Don't hate me because I'm beautiful," he tossed his head back theatrically. "And you're wrong."

"About what?" Bonnie was deeply curious because she sounded pretty right to herself.

"I haven't lost my edge. I've just amended some of my ways. Excuse me for evolving."

"I'm all for evolution, Damon as long as it goes somewhere."

Damon cocked his head to the side. Did Bonnie honestly believe he had no edge, that he gave it all up in order to keep his secret of being supernatural safe and sound? He prided himself on his controversial decision-making abilities which saw results though the lingering damage afterwards left much to be desired. Damon changed for no man, but he realized he allowed the influence of others to slowly creep in and make little alterations here and there. So maybe he didn't shoot first and asked questions later, was Bonnie now trying to shame him for it?

It had been six weeks to the day his relationship ended with Elena. He expected her to resume her relationship with Stefan but instead she moved out of Mystic Falls and was now attending Whitmore full-time. The dynamic of the group changed with no one taking anyone's side but still willing to point fingers at one another.

The second the others learned about his and Bonnie's blood-sharing escapades naturally everyone assumed it had been initiated by him despite the fact Bonnie attacked him first. Whatever. Damon was comfortable with being viewed as the bad guy, and from what he had seen and experienced people had more respect for the man who didn't give a shit as opposed to the one who did.

He had been solidified once more as the pariah, the one not to trust, which only afforded him an inordinate amount of freedom. Without the constant presence of eyes and noses poking into his business, Damon was a free man able to do whatever he wanted, and it wasn't until this all blew up that he realized how much he missed it. He had been suffocating before. Living in a vacuum of expected martyrdom, and he finally made his escape.

Bonnie on the other hand was swamped by her friends with the notable exception of Elena. That was to be expected. Underneath the disbelief she could be so manipulative everyone understood Bonnie's motives though they might not have agreed with them. But gradually she pushed everyone away, and told them it was for the best because she wasn't the Bonnie they remembered. Too much pain and hurt hung around in order to start fresh. At least not yet.

During this reprieve and restructuring, Bonnie and Damon had not shared a single drop of each other's blood. Damon meant it and held on to what he said. He would only blood-share with his girlfriend.

Tonight would have been the night he asked Bonnie to make things official, but they hit a snafu in the form of a belligerent drunk and his protesting wife. Damon moved in to intervene since the man was making the crowd in the bar nervous and anxious for a fight. They got one, but it was over before it could be recorded on a smart phone.

And instead of being treated like a victor for putting foot to ass and calming a situation before it got out of control, he was being ridiculed for having a deficiency in edge? Par_don_?

Damon's foot became lead on the gas petal. The red dial of the speedometer climbed higher and higher and strained to make it to a hundred and twenty miles per hour. This car was a classic and a gas guzzler, and he loved it, but he would be willing to sacrifice it to make a point. Not a point but a statement. Damon Salvatore doesn't give a fuck about crashing a '68 Ford Mustang. Well, deep down inside he was already in mourning for what he was about to do. He really did love this car!

"Speeding…how daredevilish of you," Bonnie mocked.

"Not speeding…this," he jerked the wheel hard to the left and then…

They were rolling, crashing, flipping, crunching metal, breaking glass, still rolling, ejected, sliding across the asphalt for seventeen feet down the highway before stopping.

By the time the world stopped spinning around Damon was on his back, the car on its roof, and Bonnie was pushing herself to rest on her elbows.

"How's that for edge?" he asked and swallowed the blood in his mouth.

Bonnie twisted her neck in his direction and glowered. "Now how are we supposed to get home, genius?"

"We have legs, we have feet, we have speed, genius. That's how we're getting home," Damon helped Bonnie to her feet and brushed glass off her leather jacket and face. The small cuts that were there healed and her face was perfect again. "You modern vampires are the ones without any edge. So reliant on technology."

Her eyes glowed kryptonite green for a second, but then a saucy smile crossed her lips and her vexation was gone. Damon swooped Bonnie up bridal style and took off.

"I can run on my own, you know," she said, arms wrapped tightly around his neck. The world passed in a blur, but the only thing that seemed not to move was Damon.

"You independent women have no sense of romance. Just let me do this," he bargained and then threw Bonnie over his shoulder so he could move faster, get to the boardinghouse quicker, and take off her clothes—now.

Half an hour later, settled behind the high walls of his lair, Damon watched from the entryway of his bedroom as Bonnie took her hair out of its bun, comb her fingers through her lustrous chocolate strands, and slip her hoop earrings out. She was already dressed for bed in a camisole sheath that came to her thighs. This was oddly domestic and reminded him of their brief stint in New York. That had been their first time ever sharing space with one another, but his conscience had to blow it.

In his long life there were few things Damon wanted to do the proper way. He found it almost impossible to ignore that little nagging voice in the back of his head telling him he was being a bastard for fooling around with Bonnie while he was supposed to be in love with Elena. He needed to end one dalliance before he entrenched himself deeper into another.

Things finally felt like they had fallen into the right track. For once.

Damon stood behind Bonnie now. Their eyes met in the reflection of the mirror but only for a second. The diminutive vitch spun around to face him and started to unbutton his shirt. He watched her fingers work.

"I know there's something you want to ask me, but you've been too chicken to do it."

A dark brow arched. "Oh, really?" Damon's voice dripped sarcasm.

Bonnie slowly nodded her head and loosened another button. "My psychic abilities…they're coming back. So are my powers. I can feel them more and more each day."

That was definitely news to Damon and he should have been pleased to hear it yet part of him wasn't.

He was free of his shirt, the material fluttering to the floor. Bonnie unbuckled his belt, pulled it out of the loops, and wrapped the strand of leather around his neck, bringing him closer. Their foreheads touched.

"Whatever it is you want to ask me…my answer is yes," Bonnie told him and pecked his lips before stepping around Damon. She climbed on the bed and waited for him.

She didn't have to wait long. Damon was momentarily distracted from crawling across the bed when the lights in his room dimmed automatically and a few candles he had displayed here and there began to burn.

Bonnie cocked a smile and then crooked her finger towards him as she lowered herself against the mattress and in no time flat Damon loomed over her, firmly planted between her spread thighs. He gently kissed both of her cheeks, the tip of her nose, and the corner of her mouth. Little by little his eyes shifted to her neck and he skimmed the column of it with his fingers.

The stalemate was over the second he pierced her skin with his fangs and that warm gush of blood flowed in his mouth and he greedily, hungrily, and happily swallowed her essence. The sigh that escaped Bonnie reminded Damon of a lid opening on a jar and compressed air and flavor had been granted its release.

He could taste it much more potently than he did before—her power. Her magic. Her. There was no word to describe what he felt for her, how her blood tasted, and what it was currently doing to him.

Bonnie didn't want to be left out so she bit into his wrist and then managed to push Damon's jeans down to his knees, and shimmied out of her panties. This was what she wanted.

The powerful combination of her blood and the smell of her arousal was almost too much for Damon to handle. He stopped feeding, peered down at her silently awaiting for her consent.

"I'm ready," Bonnie said softly but confidentially.

She went back to sucking on his wrist and that was all she wrote as far as Damon was concerned.

With some clever shifting he aligned his erect cock with her opening and told himself to go slow, to be gentle, but unfortunately he was too eager and speared himself within her folds, stretching her muscles to accommodate his girth and length. Shit, shit, shit, she was deliciously wet and painfully tight but the feeling was better than lying on a bed of cotton. Impossibly soft, Bonnie felt more human than a human though she was no longer a part of that species.

Damon slanted his mouth over hers tasting his blood, hers, everything that made them who they were individually yet brought them together unilaterally. He kissed her pain away knowing she had to be in a butt load of discomfort at the moment, and that's why he hadn't moved a single inch. He wanted Bonnie to feel him, to learn and memorize how he felt inside her because no one else was going to get this privilege. He'd make sure of that.

"Are you okay?" he asked and thrust a little.

Bonnie nodded. A tear slipped from the corner of her closed eyes. She held on to him in a vice and her breath was stucco, but she undulated her hips. After a while the pain diminished, her grip on Damon loosened, and he moved along her, pumping in an out fast and slow, hard and rough.

Bending his head once more Damon took possession of her lips, kissed long her jaw, licked the shell of her ear, and buried his face between her neck and shoulder. His thoughts were on this accord.

_This game of cat and mouse will never be over between us. She's mine again and now that we've arrived at this point, everything changes. _

**The End.**

**A/N: So there you have it folks. The conclusion of the series. I hoped you enjoyed it. I didn't want to do a full on smut scene because I have way too many to write in my other stories, but I wanted to give you guys a taste. I would apologize for the copious amount of Delena because I know some don't care for Elena, but it was necessary because I really do believe Damon is capable of fidelity with the right woman of course so that's why I stopped things between Bamon at the end of Part I. He needed to deal with Elena before he could move on and commit anymore of his time with Bonnie. **

**And speaking of Miss Bennett, I felt it was important to show that she may have been putting on an act the whole time to cover up the fact she hated being a vampire. She handled transitioning much better than others, yet at the end of the day she was in pain and Damon recognized it. **

**Please let me know what you think of this. I didn't get the response I had hoped for, for Part I and I can say I wasn't exactly happy with the chapter myself, so, I don't know. But I really do look forward to reading what you guys think because it helps me become a stronger, better writer. So please let a sistah know. If you're going out tonight to celebrate Halloween please be careful and safe. Okay guys, thanks for reading! Until next time, love you!**


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